


And We All Fall Down

by AlamoGirl80



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Angst, Drama, Dubious Consent, First Time, Fuck Or Die, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pining, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-08
Updated: 2011-06-08
Packaged: 2017-10-20 06:17:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/209653
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlamoGirl80/pseuds/AlamoGirl80
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just when everything seems fine is usually when the ground falls out from under you.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And We All Fall Down

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Don't own, don't sue, I have no money anyway.
> 
> Special thanks to caliecat for beta and cheerleading this. This is Fuck or Die and some might consider it non-con but I do not. Use discretion! Concrit always welcome.

_“The friend who can be silent with us in a moment of despair or confusion, who can stay with us in an hour of grief and bereavement, who can tolerate not knowing…not healing, not curing… that is a friend who cares.”_

 _~ Henri Nouwen_

 

Steve’s nervous.

There’s no other way to describe the onset of adrenaline as he flits between the kitchen and the dining room table, setting forks and knives in their just-so positions and then jogging out to the grill to check on the ribs. They’re just about finished, so he wraps them in foil and gingerly carries them into the kitchen, bastes them in their own juices a bit before setting them in the oven to stay warm.

Checking the clock again, he should have time to put the dressing on the salad, finish setting the table and break out a couple of Longboards before Danny gets there. Steve jumps to and fro – mission oriented and a goal in sight.

Tonight’s the night. They’ve been building up to this for so long, Steve wonders how he managed to wait when a large part of his heart has been screaming at him to do this for months. The SEALs trained him to wait for the best opportunity to see a mission completed with success. By nature, Steve isn’t a patient man, especially when it comes to something he wants.

And Steve _wants_ Danny.

He darts back into the dining room with the salad, places it in the middle of the table and adjusts a couple of pieces of silverware that are not lined up. Then Steve waffles back and forth for a good five minutes trying to decide if the room needs more lighting. He’s just about to root out the candlesticks when he figures that a candlelit dinner might just be a little _too_ obvious.

Danny might balk on sight, he’d never hear the end of it and can practically hear Danny’s voice chuckling around the words “sentimental sap,” so Steve shakes his head at his own interior monologue and goes to get the beer.

He cracks one open for himself and takes a reassuring swig before he realizes that beer spewed out from under the cap and onto his shirt.

“Damnit,” Steve swears, eyes flicking from the clock to the stain on his shirt and back again.

This isn’t going to work. He wants to impress Danny with his forethought into this dinner, not look like he just came home in his work clothes and slapped something together. Okay maybe he _is_ still wearing his work clothes but Danny’s used to his tee-shirt and cargos sort of class. Change that and Danny might think the _Apocalypse_ is on their doorstep.

Mind made up, Steve vaults up the stairs to his room, digging out a new shirt just he hears the front door open.

Danny and his aversion to social niceties like knocking…

Steve is just making it down the stairs dragging an arm through his sleeve when he spots Danny setting his keys on the table near the door.

“Hey Danny,” Steve says, ashamed that he’s a little out of breath and a lot more nervous now that Danny’s actually _here_ and standing there, looking at him.

Danny watches with a bemused look as Steve adjusts his shirt tails. “Hey yourself. Did I catch ya at a bad time?” He gestures to Steve’s person.

“Wha-no! Not at all. I was just…” Steve takes a breath and manfully tamps down on the butterflies in his stomach before he starts bouncing around and Danny has to make another damn dog metaphor. “Just waiting for you. Had to change my shirt is all.”

“You walked around smelling like a fishing trawler all day after that search at Morimoto’s and _now_ you start worrying about your attire?” Danny smirks, heading for the Longboard Steve had left on the kitchen counter. He’s pulling the knot out of his tie and Steve’s suddenly got dry mouth watching the motion

Steve tries to play it cool. This is dinner. That’s all. They do it all the time.

“Yeah, well, maybe me wearing that shirt the rest of the day was just payback for you wiping fish oil all over me.”

He grins and nudges Danny with his hip as he retrieves the plates from the cabinets and Danny follows him into the dining room.

“You made everyone suffer with that little stunt my friend and–” Danny halts, taking in the table with perfect place settings and a crystal bowl full of the best veggies Steve could find at the farmer’s market. “What’s this?”

Steve edges around Danny’s shoulder and gets the ribs out of the oven. “What’s what?”

“This. Are we… are we expecting someone tonight? Someone from the Governor’s office coming and I didn’t know about it?”

Steve frowns at the plate of ribs like it’s their fault – good thing he decided against the candles – then puts on a face of unaffected concentration as he walks around Danny into the dining room and sets the entrée on the table.

“No, Danny. It’s just you and me tonight,” he says and he tries to laugh it off. It sort of sounds a little strangled and he looks up at Danny, who is eyeing the table like a snake about to strike. “It’s no big deal, man. I just figured it’d be nice to actually sit at the table and eat like adults instead of at the coffee table where you leave crumbs on my couch.”

“That’s not–the hell I do!” Danny sputters. “You’re the one that eats like a fucking Labrador retriever, any crumbs contained in the vicinity of your TV area are _yours_ , buddy.”

Steve feels something shift around in his chest when they both sit down, side by side at the table and Danny starts shoveling food onto his plate. Like they’ve been doing this for years.

They enjoy a leisurely dinner and Danny continues to point out that he was raised to not spill anything on the carpet if he ate in front of the TV, or his Mom would have his hide tacked to the wall, so if there _were_ crumbs, they’re Steve’s and Steve is just looking for a scapegoat because SEALS aren’t supposed to leave evidence or something.

Steve’s given up on trying to interject and is just sitting there, three beers in and plates long empty, chin propped in his hand, gazing at Danny while his hands illustrate his stories and grinning so damn hard his cheeks hurt. He decides that he could easily spend every night like this, looking at Danny over the dinner table and his heart thuds _hard_ in his chest.

Danny seems to notice he’s holding up all of the conversation and sits back and regards his partner. “What?”

That jerks Steve out of his daydreams. He shakes his head. “Nothing. You just tell great stories. But I see how you seem to stay in shape eating all the crap you eat, though. You burn calories with all the hand-flapping.” He chances a small smile and is rewarded with a full-on Danno-grin.

“Bite me, babe. And it’s just weird to have you actually listen and not arguing.”

“Pot-kettle, Danny,” Steve says as they bring their plates into the kitchen and he sticks them in the dishwasher.

The two of them move to the couch with more beer, Steve’s got the Knicks on and feels ridiculously proud of himself when Danny sees this and smiles. They settle in, Danny near the end, leaning back with his right arm slung over the arm of the couch while he cradles a beer in the other hand. Steve scoots in next to him, slings his arm casually over the back of the couch behind Danny’s head and hopes Danny won’t mention the expanse of couch left free that Steve _could_ be occupying.

Other than Danny’s intermittent grumbling at the referees and a few of the players, it’s quiet and Steve allows himself the opportunity to watch his partner. It’s somewhat dark in Steve’s living room; the TV light flickers over Danny’s features and casts his intensely blue eyes an interesting shade.

Unconsciously, Steve’s moved closer and doesn’t realize it until Danny juts forward yelling at the Knicks’ post guard and then leans back into him, his shoulder pressed into Steve’s chest.

Steve freezes, aches to bring the arm on the back of the couch down and pull Danny flush against himself, but he doesn’t. They’re still in uncharted territory and Steve’s terrified of spooking Danny.

Two nights ago, their partnership shifted, morphed into something Steve had only dared to hope for and now, God help him, he wants more.

It was just a kiss. That’s all. They’d finally broken the Triad arms smuggling ring they’d spent three weeks of dead end leads, two failed assassination attempts and a hell of a lot of sleepless nights working on and after a few beers and some innocent banter, Steve leaned in and snagged Danny’s lips with his own.

Danny had gone rigid and Steve backed off immediately, apologizing and cursing in tandem, until Danny hushed him, calmed him down and told him that it was okay. Steve remembers being a little giddy after that and there had been some talk about how long Steve had wanted to do that – _a fucking long time_ – and a lot of asking Danny if he was okay with it.

He had admitted that he had very little experience with this kind of thing, with this “being into guys too” kind of thing. A couple of awkward fumblings in college with a buddy, but no sex, and shit, it hit Steve like a ton of the proverbial bricks that he was gonna have to take it slow.

Danny was receptive – obviously from the way he reacted when Steve went in for the second kiss, hell yes he was receptive – but still. Danny had mentioned that there could be problems with them getting together like this and he needed to think.

Steve really hoped he’d finished his thinking, because after that night, Steve’s had virtually nothing else on the brain. It’s not just the sex – which Steve knows will be fucking incredible – it’s that he wants Danny in every way that this relationship means.

He wants to be able to roll over every night and feel Danny’s warm bulk beside him, wrap his arms around him and just _hold_ because he’s gotten tired of this cold empty space at his side day in and day out. He wants to wake up next to Danny in the morning, share showers and coffee and malasadas while Danny tries to pick out the perfect tie and reminds him about the proper procedure for subduing a suspect who hasn’t been read his Miranda yet.

He wants Danny to help him decorate the upstairs guest room for Grace, because Steve could care less what color pink she chooses just as long as he’s allowed to listen in when Danny reads her stories at bedtime…maybe he can read a few to her too…

He wants Danny’s short stature and his huge presence filling up the shadows and the holes in this great empty house and Christ, Steve realizes now that he’s pretty much head over heels for this man.

Steve doesn’t realize he’s chewing his bottom lip and staring at the floor until he feels Danny shift beside him.

“I can hear the cogs in your brain screeching from here, Steve. What the hell are you thinking on so hard over there that has smoke coming out of your ears?”

Steve forces a smile, starts to blow it off, say “nothing” and let Danny get back to the game, but something in his gut twists at Danny’s open expression. Wetting his lips, Steve decides to test the waters. “Thinking about the other night.”

He watches Danny’s expression carefully, notes the furrow in his brows as the recollection dawns on him. His partner stares at his own hands, rubs his thumb over his knuckle and gives a shy grin. “Oh. That.”

Steve shifts closer, bringing his arm further around Danny, dips his head to try to catch the other man’s eye and waits.

A sigh and Danny looks up, fixes him with a warm look. “Yeah, I can safely say that night has figured prominently in my mind lately.”

“And…?” There are a dozen stupid butterflies doing a slam-dance in Steve’s stomach now.

“ _And_ ,” Danny says, turning to face Steve full-on, “I still think there is potential for a major work-related pooch-screw if we do this. I mean, you’re my boss, Steven – no, don’t give me the puppy eyes, you are _technically_ my boss – and, well, what if it doesn’t work?”

Danny’s scared. Steve can see it in the lines around his eyes, the way he’s holding his hands palm-up and questioning. His heart starts thundering in his ears and a million responses form behind his tongue of how he’d never let it affect work… how they could make it work… how he doesn’t think he could go back to the way things were before if he even remotely wanted to….

But what comes out is soft, more tinted with plea than he meant but it’s too late now. Steve’s putting his cards on the table.

“What if it _can_ work, Danny? How will we know unless we try?” Steve asks.

Danny tilts his head, considering, then points a finger at Steve. “What is that face, huh? That’s a new one. Is it the newly unveiled ‘I’m willing you to concede to me with these goofy puppy-love eyes’ face? Because I got to say, that can’t be something they taught you in Army boot camp.”

“Navy,” Steve corrects without thinking, his face splitting into a grin.

“Whatever. The point is, you are using some super-secret SEAL charm on me right now and I want you to know I see what you’re doing. You are not subtle, babe.” Danny’s grinning now too.

“Could you honestly say that you’d want to forget all about that night?” Steve asks, pushing a confidence into his tone that he wasn’t totally sure he could back up.

Because if Danny said, “Yes, he could. For the sake of their partnership,” Steve might just crumble. For all that Steve is great at compartmentalizing his emotions in order to get the job done, he doesn’t think he can compartmentalize his feelings for Danny. Not anymore.

 _Damn it_ , he just doesn’t _want_ to.

Danny’s smile fades, but the warmth is still there in his eyes. Before Steve knows what’s happening, Danny leans in and places a soft, chaste kiss against his lips.

Steve’s eyes fall shut and he suppresses the urge to groan because his heart has leapt almost painfully into his throat, and the butterflies are setting of fireworks in his stomach and everything in his world just suddenly righted itself.

Danny pulls away enough to look at Steve, as Steve’s eyes slowly open, feeling punch-drunk and absurdly happy.

“No,” Danny says, reaching up to run a hand across Steve’s stubble jaw. “As a matter of fact, partner, I don’t think I want to forget about that night at all.”

They both let out breathy laughs and Steve has a ridiculous, overpowering urge to throw all his ideas about the future at Danny at once; ask him to stay the night, ask him to stay forever, hell, Steve doesn’t know where to start.

Always a man of deed, not of words, Steve does what he does best – acts – and latches onto Danny’s face with both hands and dives in for another kiss.

Danny moans into his mouth, opening up to allow Steve access and _shit_ , Steve’s hard in an instant. But he’ll content himself to go at whatever speed Danny needs.

And kissing Danny is enough right now. It’s fucking great. Steve could make it his new mission in life to sit on this couch and kiss Danny Williams all fucking day and night, that’d be just fine.

But life is never fair – or Steve is just plain fucking cursed – because the next thing Steve knows is bright, blinding light, a concussive blast that rocks his insides like full-body whiplash, and then nothing but blackness.

 ___________________________________________________________________________________________________

 _“Every man is afraid of something. That’s how you know he’s in love with you; when he’s afraid of losing you.” – Unknown  
____________________________________________________________________________________________________  
_

 

When Danny wakes up, he hurts. All over hurts. Groaning, he tries to sit up, but finds himself face down on the ground, hands cuffed behind his back and his head is seriously about to split open all over the floor.

He flinches when he hears something deep and rolling over the ringing in his ears – thunder, it’s started raining – and then he hears movement.

“Danny? Danny, talk to me, man.” Steve’s voice is nearby and urgent.

Danny struggles to open his eyes. “Steve?” He tries to flex his arms against the cuffs. “Steve, what the fuck…?”

“I know. Just, be still okay. The effects of the grenade will wear off.”

Grenade. That gets Danny’s attention and he opens both eyes despite the jackhammer in his head. “What grenade?”

He looks around to find the house dark save for a hurricane lamp on the coffee table. Steve is about five feet away, trussed up like a turkey as well and there’s a cut above his brow trickling blood. Danny manages to cast a glance over his shoulder and meets the muzzle of an AK-47 about an inch from his nose.

At the other end of the gun is a mountain of a man, Hawai’ian, dressed in black fatigues with an expression of unconcerned malice. Like he’d blow Danny’s head off then go out for shish-ka-bobs afterwards.

There are two other goons of similar build and descent covering Steve, and yeah, Danny thinks that’s pretty fucking smart. Steve is a one man study in destruction. The perps obviously know this.

Steve struggles against his bonds a moment, his face contorted in pain and Danny wonders if Super SEAL is hiding an injury. “Concussion grenade,” Steve supplies, glaring at his captors. “Shock and awe to incapacitate the victims with light and sound.”

“Oh yeah,” Danny says, and it’s almost funny the conversational tone he now has. “I’ve seen SWAT use those before. Why do I feel like I’ve been shoved into a clothes dryer if it’s just light and sound?”

“Because,” says a low, deadly calm voice to Danny’s right, “some concussion grenades are armed with rubber shrapnel. Just to aid in making sure your targets are fully incapacitated.”

Danny twists enough to spot the ring leader and recognizes him.

Carl Rin, medium build Japanese/Samoan decent and a mid-level runner for drugs, arms and stolen merchandise in the Samoan underworld. Danny remembered his rap sheet, a mile long and full of not so tame stuff like torturing members of rival organizations for information on drug shipments. Carl was collateral damage from an op Steve ran with the SEALs in Asia before Five-0, given over to Japanese authorities and sent back to the island where his crimes had occurred, or so the files said.

Danny couldn’t believe he was out already. It was just a couple of years ago, right? He looks to Steve, but his partner has his Terminator look on, burning holes in Carl.

Carl squats next to Danny. “Yeah, that’s right. SEAL man over there knows me. He and I had a run in a few years ago in Japan, but I think you already know that, yeah Jersey?”

When Danny flinches, Carl laughs. “Did my homework on you, _haole_. I kept up with my buddy McGarrett, here, and his new pet project on the island.”

Carl moves over to Steve, goes to pat Danny’s partner on the head like a subservient dog, but Steve jerks away and damn near snarls. Carl grabs a hunk of Steve’s hair and jerks, while Goon number 2 presses his assault rifle into Steve’s shoulder blades. Danny wills Steve with his eyes to _cool it_.

“Easy, big guy,” Carl coos, shoving Steve’s head down to the floor with a _thunk_. “Save your energy. I have something special in mind for you and your _haole_ over there.”

“At the risk of spoiling the surprise,” Danny says, trying to angle onto his side so he can check their surroundings, “what do you think you’ll accomplish here, Carl? I mean, really, what? Retribution? You went in for drug trafficking, how the hell are you even out so soon?”

Carl smiles a nasty smile. “SEALs aren’t great on dotting the ‘i’s and crossing their ‘t’s in paper work. Or showing up for court dates.” He smacks Steve across the back of the head and stands up. “I got out on appeal.”

Okay, Danny knows where Steve got his shitty paperwork skills. “So you went inside for two years, big whoop. All this…” Danny gestures with his head around the room, the windows blown out, letting rain and wind in and Steve’s walls have a fresh spackling of shrapnel holes. “All this for two years? Dumb move, asshole. Should have caught the next plane to the mainland and counted your fucking blessings.”

Before he can fucking blink, Danny feels the toe of Carl’s military-style boot connect with his side, all the air in his lungs whooshing out in a grunt. He hears Steve cursing and struggling in his spot and Goon 2 telling him to shut up.

Carl’s boot presses down on Danny’s neck as he struggles to catch his breath. “You have no idea, _haole_. No fucking idea why this is worth my while.”

Danny coughs. “Okay. I get it. I do. McGarrett’s a royal pain in the ass, you have no idea how much I get that, but–”

Carl sniggers as Goon 1 yanks Danny off the floor, forcing him back on his ass and Danny’s still trying to take a deep breath around bruised ribs. “Ouch,” he spits out as Carl tips his chin up with the muzzle of his gun.

Goon 2 and 3 haul Steve up onto his knees and Danny can see where the rubber shrapnel has torn Steve’s shirt and left angry welts across his torso and neck.

“Do you know what goes on in prison?” Carl asks, mildly. “You find a gang as soon as you get in, because you’re gonna need protection. Lone wolves get eaten inside. But see, the problem is, I’m stuck on both sides of the line. And the Samoans inside thought I was a fucking snitch.”

It takes Danny a second to get it, to understand. According to Carl’s file that Danny remembers reading because it was the only thing from Steve’s SEAL days that isn’t fucking classified and was connected to crimes on the island, Carl worked for the Samoans. In prison, Carl wouldn’t be allowed into the Yakuza gangs because of his mixed race and fraternizing with the enemy. If the Samoans though he was a snitch…

Yeah, Danny’s starting to get the picture here.

“Every day. Every goddamned day someone used me, _haole_. The Yakuzas turned me out as their own personal whore and there wasn’t a fucking thing I could do about it.” Carl spits the words, shame and revulsion all over his features.

Danny might have been able to dredge up an ounce of sympathy for the dirt bag, if, y’know, he wasn’t holding them hostage at gun point.

“You sold guns and drugs to kids on the street, Carl. I think you pretty much got what you deserve,” Steve growls.

Danny gives Steve the ‘oh, make it worse why don’t ya?’ look just as Carl snarls and whacks Steve across the cheek with the butt of his rifle hard enough that Danny’s face hurts in sympathy.

Steve sways against the couch; Goon 2 and 3 help tip him upright back onto his knees. He shakes his head a few times, spits the blood from his mouth onto the floor and glares defiantly back at Carl.

Carl leans in, a feral smirk on his lips. “And now, you’re going to get what you deserve, Commander.”

Danny does _not_ like the sound of that. He knows Steve is trained for this, they probably have some fucking class in SEAL school on looking like a goddamn superhero in the face of imminent torture, but Danny doesn’t have the CliffsNotes on that particular subject.

Carl gets up and moves around the room, picking up Danny and Steve’s cell phones.

“Someone will hear, call the cops,” Danny says.

“I doubt it,” Carl answers blithely. “Shock grenades are loud, but your neighbors aren’t exactly close. Not to mention the fact that we cut your power and the storm is providing excellent cover.” A clap of thunder punctuates Carl’s words.

“Your phones are turned off, and I do believe you told the rest of your team that you two were hanging out tonight, yeah?” Carl smiles nastily again.

Danny sighs. Carl’s right. After closing that Triad case, he knew Steve had told Chin, Kono and Jenna to take a few days off. No one would be looking for them. Fuck.

Danny watches Carl rummage in a black bag and come up with cuffs attached to chains about a foot long. Oh… this doesn’t look good. He spares a glance at Steve, but finds Steve’s expression closed off, back behind the walls of training and discipline. Figures. Only Steve’s eyes belie the seriousness of the situation. Danny suddenly wishes he could just turn Steve loose on these fuckers, let him go complete SEAL Eliminator on them, to hell with procedure.

The Goons manhandle Steve and Danny to their feet while the lightning flashes and illuminates the room in an eerie blue light. Carl eyes the two of them for a minute, before that same, sickening smile creeps over his beady features.

“As I said, Detective, I did my homework. I know you’re a transplant from the mainland. You got a daughter, yeah?”

Danny’s heart plummets to his toes and suddenly he could give a shit if the guy holding him outweighs him by 200 pounds. He yanks forward, dimly aware that Steve is mirroring his actions, his mask fallen away and pure rage on his partners features.

“You son of a bitch–” Danny grinds out.

Carl waves him off, taking careful note of Steve’s vehement reaction as well. “Relax. I have no interest in your family, Detective. This is all about payback. Specifically, you and McGarrett.”

“Leave him out of this,” Steve rumbles, low and deadly. “I’m the one who sent you back to prison. I’m the one you want.”

“Yes,” Carl says. “You did, didn’t you? You weren’t even after me, you could have let me go, but _no_. Always got to be the Boy Scout.”

Steve just glares at him and juts out his chin defiantly. “We followed you to the location because you were part of the arms deal selling SAMs to a known terrorist group.”

“And you got your terrorists! What did it matter if I walked?” Carl screeches.  “They would have gotten their surface-to-air missiles from someone else; I wasn’t even the biggest supplier.”

Steve sneers. “Excuses, excuses.”

Instead of screaming again, Carl walks calmly over to Danny, stands beside him and shoves the muzzle of his gun in Danny’s temple. Steve’s eyes go wide, tipping his hand and Danny can see his partner’s breath catch with fear. Carl sees it too, starts sniggering under his breath.

“The thing about getting raped in prison,” Carl says, “it’s not about sex at all. It’s about power. Submission and degradation.”

Danny swallows thickly. This is going from bad to FUBAR faster than Steve breaks the speed limits and for the life of him, he can’t see a way out of it yet. If he could just find a distraction; Steve’s house is a fucking armory. If he could just get to one of Steve’s hiding spots where he keeps his machine guns, his rocket launchers, _something_ …

“I’m going to fuck up your life, McGarrett, much the way mine was fucked up when you sent me away. See, I’ve been watching you, studying you, since I got out. You don’t got many friends.” Carl caresses Danny’s hair. “And you spend an awful lot of time with this _hoale_ here.”

“Don’t,” Steve warns, straining against the two guys holding him until they force him down to his knees again. “Don’t you fucking _touch_ him.”

“I’m not gonna do anything. You are.” Carl laughs. Twirls the shackles around one finger. “I want to watch you fuck your friendship, probably the only thing you got on this rock, right into oblivion, McGarrett. Fuck the _haole_ or I take my time ripping his guts out right in front of you and then you can go tell his little girl about how you couldn’t save her daddy.”

Danny’s insides nearly turn to water watching Steve pale and look like he’s about to puke.  Danny chokes on his fear, strangles on it a minute before he finds his voice because Steve is looking at him like he’s considering actually doing this.

“You’re gonna fucking kill us anyway,” Danny grits out. “Steve – _Steve_ …he’s gonna kill us anyway.”

Danny tries to get Steve to listen. To look at him, but his partner is staring at the floor, his Adam’s apple working up and down as though he’s trying to swallow the bile.

Carl moves into the study and runs a hand over the large, mahogany desk. “Maybe. Maybe not. What I will promise you is that your partner will suffer if you don’t do as I say, McGarrett.”

Danny almost misses Steve’s “Okay” as Goon 1 hauls him up and starts shoving him toward the study with Carl.

“ _What_?” Danny all but screams.

Steve looks up, all emotion crammed behind that SEAL mask until Danny hardly recognizes him. “I said okay.” He turns his wild, furious eyes on Carl. “I will kill you when this is over.”

Carl grins and shrugs before twirling the shackles again. “Bring him to the desk,” he tells Goon 1. “I’ve always wanted to see a cop bent over a desk.”

Danny’s legs lock up. This can’t be fucking happening. What was Steve doing, agreeing to this, there had to be another way! Why wasn’t he going all SEAL ape-shit on these guys already? Christ, Danny spends nine hours a day trying to yank on Steve’s leash and now, where’s the fucking Terminator when he needs him?

“ _No_ ,” Steve yells above the thunder, lunging to his feet. “No. Not there. There’s a …a bedroom, past the stairs.”

Danny’s starting to hyperventilate because…why was Steve giving them locations for this? Carl shrugs again, tells the goon squad to watch them while he goes and checks the room Steve’s offered. Danny knows it’s the downstairs guest room, more for storage than anything…but, what the fuck is McGarrett thinking?

As soon as Carl is out of sight, the goons push him a little closer to Steve and Danny gets an up close look at his partner. Steve’s sweating, taking great ragged breaths and his careful mask has fallen aside. His eyes are white-rimmed, terrified and yet, Danny sees guilt there. Danny’s very used to seeing _that_ particular emotion hidden in Steve’s many faces.

“Danny? Danny, are you with me, man?”

Danny would give his mountain of ties for the opportunity to punch Steve McGarrett in his fucking mouth right now.

“No! No I’m not fucking _with you_ , what the hell? What’s your plan here, exactly?” Danny whispers harshly.

Steve’s eyes flick to the hallway and back to Danny. “C’mon Danno, we have to do this. There isn’t any other way.”

Danny rears back against Goon 1’s meaty hands clasped around his forearms, gives up the pretense and just yells. “What the fuck is that supposed to mean? There is always another way, what’s a’matter with you, huh? I see you MacGyver your way out of at least five life threatening situations every week!”

“ _Danny_ , it’s – it’s too risky!” Steve’s looking frantic now. “Fuck, if we don’t play along he’ll kill you. I can’t…I _won’t_ let that happen.”

“He’s going to kill us anyway, you idiot. You know this.”

Steve leans in further, pinning Danny with his eyes, and Danny wants to be sick right there. Steve’s given up. That’s what this is. Part of him knows Steve is just trying to protect them for as long as he can, but a traitorous, vile part of his hind-brain wonders of Steve somehow _wants_ this.

Danny stomps on the thought like stomping on a disgusting roach, because no way that can be true. Sure, he knows he and Steve were heading that way…especially after tonight. Shit, it sounds cheesy in his head but even though Danny had cared about that buddy in college he’d fooled around with, he’d never seriously considered having sex with the guy.

He’s been thinking about having sex with Steve since that first kiss and found himself just… _wanting_ it. Sure, he was nervous about it, hell, the mechanics alone are enough to give a guy pause, but he trusts Steve. Knows Steve has experience. Knows Steve cares about him.

God there are so many things wrong with him thinking these thoughts right now, when he’s about to get fucked whether he’s ready or not, at gun point, fuck you very much and Steve is pleading with him with those damned eyes.

“I never – I mean, it was never supposed to be like this,” Steve says, his voice cracking.

Danny’s heart cracks too, but the nagging thought that there is something they haven’t tried stirs up his anger again. “So that’s it. You’re just going to fucking do this and not even try to get us out of this some other way?”

Steve looks brittle now, like the slightest touch will shatter him in a million pieces on the floor. “Every scenario I’ve come up with has one or both of us getting killed, Danny. I’m sorry.”

 _Coward_ springs to Danny’s mind, but he can’t say it. Wouldn’t say it. Doesn’t have to because the way Steve’s shoulders slump before him, he figures his partner already knows.

Carl comes back and motions to the goons to bring them to the bedroom. Danny tamps down on the panic in his gut when he sees the double sized, wrought-iron four-poster bed in the room filled with boxes and old furniture. He stands, facing Steve, who is still gazing at him like a lifeline. Danny forces his eyes to the floor.

“We’re going to un-cuff you, McGarrett,” Carl says. “But understand this: two fully automatic AK-47s are aimed at you and your boyfriend here and if you even twitch wrong, I’ll cut both of you in half with the bullet spray.”

Steve is silent and still as Goon 2 un-cuffs him while Goon 1 stands at the door aiming at Danny. Goon 3 heads down the hall to the living room to cover the rest of the house.

“Strip him,” orders Carl.

Large hands enter Danny’s sightline as Steve reaches for his shirt buttons. He hears Steve mumbling something that sounds like _Danny, Danny, Sorry_ , but doesn’t respond. His brain too busy whirring through any an all possible routs of escape, but nothing seems to work out.

Steve’s fingers are shaking as he undoes the last button; Danny feels his cuffs being unlocked long enough for his shirt to be pulled off, and then his hands are refastened in front of his stomach. Still keeping his eyes downcast, Danny watches Steve make short work of his pants, pulling them down his legs and helping him step out of them.

He shivers a little, down to his boxers now and feels Steve’s hands skim over his arms and shoulders. Flicks his eyes up long enough to see Steve strip out of his shirt, kick his shoes and pants off in one fluid motion. Danny focuses for a second on the ink and muscles rippling beneath.

He glances at Steve’s already half-hard cock and tears his eyes away. Steve is gorgeous, no doubt, but this is ten shades of fucking _wrong_.

 ___________________________________________________________________________________________________

 _“Darkness, darkness be my blanket. Cover me with the endless night; take away the pain of knowing.” – The Youngbloods_

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Steve stands naked in the dark room, lit by the measly hurricane lamp Carl set on the night table. He watches his partner turn his head and screw his eyes shut, every movement driving home the spike of self loathing in his shattered heart. There is no way out of this, at least not right now and Danny hates him.

Steve knows he’s fucked up, knows he shouldn’t be aroused with guns trained on him but he looks at his Danno – broad, thick shoulders, tapering to that small waist strong legs and golden skin – he just can’t help it.

He reaches out, runs his hands along Danny’s jaw and gently tilts his head up. Coming in close, Steve dips his head, anything to get Danny to look at him, to let him know he’s alright, but Danny’s mouth is a thin line of fear and anger and well, fuck it. Steve’s lost him.

Steve presses his lips to Danny’s softly, pleadingly, whispering apologies against his skin. Maybe, Steve thinks, he can loosen Danny up a little with a kiss. The ache of the kisses that were interrupted before this Hell began settles in Steve’s gut, burning a hole straight through but finally, Danny opens up with a shaky sigh and lets him in.

“Cut out the girly shit, McGarrett,” Carl barks, making the two of them flinch.

Steve spares an icy glare toward his captor, sizing up the two goons for the hundredth time and knowing if he lunges, Goon 2 will squeeze twenty rounds into Danny before he can even get his hands on him.

“Danny, please. We gotta…” Steve doesn’t know how to say it, doesn’t know how to make it sound like less of a perverted invasion of the two of them, because it just fucking _is_ , but he can’t stand that Danny won’t look at him.

His partner’s never been shy about voicing his opinions, voicing anything for that matter, and now, Danny is silent and still. His muscles are taut, shoulders bunched together and he finally, _finally_ lifts his chin and eyes to Steve’s. Those shocking blue eyes glitter with fury and fear and Steve would give anything to just wrap his arms around Danny and hold him close.

Steve brings his forehead to Danny’s, nuzzles close and pleads again for Danny to respond.

“We gotta make this look good, man, please,” he says while he rubs his partner’s shoulders soothingly.

Steve hears a safety being clicked off and freezes, feels Danny tense up even more and Steve subtly moves in closer in front of him, protective.

“Better get with the program, _hoale_. A half-hard dick on your buddy there isn’t gonna get the job done, so unless you want to get,” Carl huffs a laugh, “ _messed up_ down there, you better help him out.”

Danny utters the first word Steve’s heard in what seems like forever. “Fuck,” he breathes and swallows hard, tries to step back, but Steve grabs on.

“Hey, it’s okay, Danny. Look at me, okay? I _won’t_ hurt you. I won’t. But you gotta…” Steve takes Danny’s cuffed hand and guides it to his dick, because he figures short of making Danny go down on him – and while that’s been a favorite fantasy of Steve’s for a long damn time, he’s not gonna give that to Carl too – Danny pumping his cock with those callused hands will get him all the way hard in no time.

And he’s right. Danny’s hand tremble once as they wrap around Steve’s cock, but then he squeezes slightly, rubs a thumb absently over the slit and Steve breathes out an “ _Ooh_.”

Danny goes to pull away but Steve keeps his hands still. “No, that’s good Danny. That’s – yeah, that’s great.”

His partner mutters another string of curses before flicking his wrist and giving Steve a few good jerks. Steve’s cock perks up completely, hard and throbbing in an instant and Steve shoves Danny’s hands away before he loses himself. Steve runs his hands gently down Danny’s sides, dipping below the waistband of his boxers and slipping them over Danny’s round, perfect ass.

He’s not surprised Danny’s soft, that’s fine. Steve’s the one who’s got to take a match to their relationship and burn it to the fucking ground here, not Danny.

Suddenly Goon 2 has his gun in Steve’s face, making him stumble back a step or two so Goon 1 can put the longer shackles on Danny’s wrists and tie him to the head frame of the bed. Danny struggles and cusses, but after the rifle muzzle gets pushed into his temple so hard it leaves a mark, he stops and lets himself be shackled.

Steve gulps air down his throat like a drowning man adrift as he takes in the sight of naked Danny, on his knees facing the wall, arms out and ass jutting backward like a porn star pinup. Danny’s panting now, the chain jingles as he trembles and what’s left of Steve’s soul howls like a dying animal.

 _Not like this_ , he thinks, _not like this_.

Climbing up on the bed, Steve tries to reassure Danny again, murmuring soft platitudes and running his hand up and down the line of Danny’s back, ignoring the startled jump as Danny reacts to his touch.

Carl chuckles. “Damn. Shoulda brought a camera. Porn companies would pay a mint for this shit.”

Danny’s shaking his head. “ _Fuck_ , fuck you, you little prick…”

Yeah, Steve’s gonna kill the bastard. Bare handed. Slowly.

“Lube,” Steve growls and one of the goons rummages in a box and finds some gun oil.

Carl shoulders his rifle and crosses his arms, settling in for the show. The oil is cool and thick, so Steve applies a generous amount to his dick. Then, he looks down at Danny, watching his muscles tighten and Steve sighs.

There is no fucking way he’s gonna hurt Danny doing this, he’d rather rush the guards and take his chances. But Danny’s never done this, let alone have it pretty much forced on him when he isn’t ready.

Steve doesn’t think Carl will give him a lot of prep time and when he touches an oil-slick hand to one of Danny’s cheeks and Danny flinches, _oh_ , the knife in his heart twists.

“Easy now Danny. You gotta relax man. Just breath.” Steve tries to make his voice as soothing as possible.

Danny yanks on the chains, clanking them. “Oh yeah? Just as easy as that, huh? Just relax, Danno and take what I’m giving you, he says. Bullshit!”

Steve dribbles the lube on his crack, using a finger to work it between his cheeks and Danny bucks a little. Steve manages to work his thumb to the tight ring of muscle and starts a gentle massage, but Danny’s shaking harder than ever, the muscles in that broad back rippling and a string of curses hissing out of Danny’s mouth so thick Steve thinks the air around them will turn blue.

“ _Relax_. Just relax, please. Let me get you ready, Danny.”

“Fuck this, _Jesus Christ_ , fuck this…”

“Danny, _please_ ,” Steve knows his voice is breaking but this is just fucking killing him.

He’d wanted to take it so slow with Danny, suck his cock, massage his hands all over every inch of Danny’s body, learning what turned him on. He had wanted to lick and suck his way across the planes of muscle and open Danny up slow and gentle, make him beg for it before he was done with him.

Now…everything was fucked straight to hell and they both could die before Steve has a chance to show Danny how much he loves him.

Because he does love him, he’s never been more sure of that fact now.

Still unable to get a finger in, Steve uses his free hand to scoop across Danny’s chest and pull him upright, flush against Steve’s chest. Steve rests his head against the side of Danny’s his mouth to the shell of his ear.

“Danny you _have_ to _relax_. It’s gonna hurt if you don’t, please don’t make me hurt you.”

Danny twists his head around and glares at Steve over his shoulder. “Fuck you. Hows about we switch positions and _you_ try this.”

“Danny…” Steve moans.

“No really, let’s change and you sit here, ass in the air while three gunmen fucking – oh _God damn it_ , _Steven_ ,” Danny gasps as Steve works his forefinger into Danny’s hole.

Danny clenches hard around him, so Steve holds tight to Danny’s shoulders and shushes him tenderly. “It’s okay, _okay_ , it’s _okay_ , Danny.”

Steve massages and works the muscle down there, coaxing his partner to calm down. As he starts to slide the second finger in, Danny bucks hard under him and Steve has to almost manhandle him down.

“You fight it, buddy, that’s you how get hurt,” comes Carl’s monotone voice. “You could always put a sleeper hold on him, McGarrett. Make things a lot easier.”

“ _No_ ,” Steve and Danny say in unison.

There is no way on earth Steve is going to knock Danny out and do this to him. Danny struggles against the chains again and Steve can see the faint trickle of blood welling where the cuffs meet his skin.

Steve continues to work his two fingers in and out, holding tight to Danny’s shoulders and soothing him as much as possible.

“I wouldn’t do that do you, Danny. Never. _Never_ ,” Steve chants, letting his head fall against Danny’s sweat-slick back “Its okay.  I wouldn’t hurt you like that but you have _got_ to _relax_ , buddy.”

“If you’re too scared to hurt your little flower, McGarrett, one of my boys can put him out for you,” Carl says.

Steve stares at Goon 1 and says in his most deadly voice, “If you fucking touch him I’ll kill you before your friend over there can get his fat finger on the trigger. _Back. The. Fuck. Off._ ”

Goon 1 shrugs and steps out into the hall and Carl shuts the door, apparently confident that he and Goon 2 can keep an eye on them.

Slowly, Steve leans forward, begins to bear his shattered heart to Danny in a string of words he’s not sure make sense in Danny’s ear; how sorry he is that this happened, it’s not what he wanted, that he’d never hurt Danny and he would have made it so good their first time. Danny seems to respond to his voice and relaxes enough for the third finger and Steve shudders in relief. 

Carl’s making impatient noises so Steve pulls his fingers out and lines up his aching, leaking cock with Danny’s entrance.

Danny seems to sense this, tensing up again, but Steve can’t afford to wait much longer, so he pushes past all his hatred, anger and brokenness and slides into Danny’s heat.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Danny spits out, hands clinging to the bed rail in a white-knuckle grip.

Steve keeps his mantra of calming words and pushes in deeper until his balls bottom out. Carl makes a satisfied grunt behind him, Steve doesn’t even want to know what he’s doing back there and focuses on the feel of Danny around him.

Christ, it’s better than he could imagine and it nearly brings tears to his eyes knowing he’ll never get to have it again. A few soft thrusts and Danny’s making groaning noises as he holds onto the bed and he’s starting to loosen up, moving more _with_ Steve than _against_ him.

Steve pulls up behind Danny again, flush against his back, buried to the hilt and kisses Danny’s temple. Says his name like a prayer against his skin.

Danny nearly sobs Steve’s name and that’s all it takes to get Steve moving. Hands on Danny’s hips Steve’s thrusting home, harder and harder, and he’s already so close, can already feel the building release in his gut and Danny’s making this fucking wonderful sounds against the head rail as the whole bed creaks and groans under the exertion.

Steve’s going to burn this fucking bed, maybe everything in this room after this is over.

____________________________________________________________________________________________________

 _“Tyger, tyger! Burning bright, in the forests of the night. What immortal hand or eye dare frame thy fearful symmetry.” ~William Blake_

 ___________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Danny grits his teeth together, trying to hold on against Steve’s counter-pulls on his hips. There is an embarrassing slapping of skin, Steve’s balls hitting his ass and fuck, Danny doesn’t even want to know if Carl is back there getting off on this. The storm outside has gathered to a fever pitch, lightning flashing the room alight and thunder damn near shaking the rafters.

Danny wishes the house would fall down around their ears.

It hurts – as Danny expected – to be fucked in the ass, but its starting to get better. Steve tried to make it as easy as possible, and maybe, maybe he should have been more appreciative. Hell, at least let the guy know he doesn’t completely hate him.

Because a small part of him does hate Steve for this. For being able to do this and just compartmentalize the shit out of everything. Danny has to try to shut out the anger and humiliation.

Danny bites his bottom lip as Steve rams into him, noting the liquid fire reaction as Steve’s cock hits _that_ _spot_ and _oh_ , isn’t that interesting? Danny’s cock twitches to life, growing hard hanging below his belly. It’s an odd mixture of pain and bliss and Danny feels himself react to Steve’s actions.

Steve’s pumps become erratic, jarring and Danny knows he’s close. Can feel his cock swelling inside him and God, the noises Steve’s making. These fucking grunts and groans that sound like he’s in pain; maybe he is.

Danny knows this is killing Steve. Everything Steve admitted in his ear is proof and he’s never, ever seen Steve beg for forgiveness. He seems to need Danny’s forgiveness and at least that little bit, right now, Danny can give.

He looks over his shoulder to see Steve’s face, contorted in a weird mix of agony and fucked out bliss and whispers, “It’s okay, babe.”

The sound Steve makes as he pulls out and comes on Danny’s back and thighs sounds like a wounded animal. It really should be so fucking hot, but it is.

The hard muscled weight of his partner collapses onto his sweaty back and Danny struggles to stay upright. He nearly yelps when he feels Steve’s large, gun-worn hand close around his painfully hard cock and start expertly jerking him off. Steve seems to know how close Danny is, flicks his wrist over the head and Danny locks his muscles up and comes in shuddering gasps all over Steve’s hand.

While trying to catch his breath, Danny spots something glinting at him from behind the bed. Steve leans over more, presses a kiss on Danny’s cheek and Danny can see him looking at the object too.

A knife, fucking big one by the look of it, is taped behind the bed frame and Danny doesn’t even spare a thought to wonder how he ended up with a partner who keeps fucking machetes taped to the back of his guest beds.

Danny just closes his eyes and says a silent prayer of thanks that for once, his partner being a crazy-ass SEAL is going to pay off.

 ___________________________________________________________________________________________________

 _“Take time to deliberate; but when the time for action arrives, stop thinking and go in.”_

 _~Napoleon Bonaparte_

 _____________________________________________________________________________________________________  
_

 

Steve’s pretty sure Danny’s seen the K-Bar knife. He wipes the spunk on the bed sheet, shifting closer to his partner as Danny moves closer to the bad frame as if seeking support. After using the sheet to clean his partner up, Steve kisses Danny’s shoulder, neck, temple, seeking more of the forgiveness that Danny had proffered minutes before.

He also needs to get in a position to grab the knife as soon as the opportunity opens.

The sound of laughter echoes above the pounding rain behind them. “Well, I’ll be Goddamned. Big bad Navy SEAL is in love,” Carl chides, moving to stand next to Goon 1 near the closed door. “What’s worse? I think he wants this _hoale_ to love him back!”

Steve goes rigid, feels Danny do the same and sees the look in Danny’s eyes when he chances a glance. Something inside Steve screams at Carl ramming another spike of loss beside the one of loathing in his heart. But he shoves it aside for the plan that has at least of glimmer of hope if he can get to that K-Bar.

He’s shocked that it’s Danny who comes to the rescue at fully Jersey-attitude tilt.

“Hey, asshole. Getting punked in jail wasn’t enough for you, you gotta get off on this too? What kind of sick fuck are you, anyway? I bet you didn’t even fight those mugs in prison. I bet you liked it, cause that’s what you are, a sick, chicken-shit little fuck.”

Danny angles his body in front of Steve while Carl flushes crimson in fury and for the moment, he’s distracted.

Steve grabs the K-Bar and flings it at Goon 1, hitting him in the chest. Then all hell breaks loose.

The big man goes down but not before accidentally squeezing off a few rounds that clip Carl in the side and leg. He howls, dropping his gun completely and Steve’s already off the bed, diving for it. Steve gets to it first and Carl being the coward he is, skitters out the door, nearly knocking Goon 2 off the landing.

Steve uses the larger man’s shock and disorientation to his advantages and pumps two rounds into the guy’s head and chest. Steve covers the door with this rifle, checks dead Goon 1 and sees the rifle he’s holding is jammed. Then he digs through the dead man’s pockets and finds the keys to the cuffs.

Danny’s shaking while Steve uncuffs him, muttering ‘”C’mon, c’mon” and Steve chances a look in this eyes while they’re so close. Those sky-blue eyes pierce Steve, momentarily stunning him and then they’re moving because they just don’t have time for this.

He can still hear Carl screaming like a scalded cat in the living room, so he and Danny yank their paints on and Steve tells him there is an extra nine millimeter in the closet down the hall with clips.

Danny is all grim determination now, hair an absolute mess and still sweaty, but for now he seems to have shaken off his shock and returned to cop-mode. Steve can’t help but feel a stab of pride for his partner who, after all this, still has his back.

Steve creeps out of the bedroom, covering the hall so Danny can slip down to the closet. Moving into the living room, Steve hunches into attack-mode, watching for the last thug and Carl. He doesn’t have to wait long because Goon 3 swings out of the kitchen and starts firing.

Steve ducks and rolls behind a chair, coming up and fairing off a succession of rounds, and his attacker down in a heap.

Steve is warily checking the felled man for signs of life when he hears a high-pitched yell from behind, and fuck, there’s no time. Carl leaps out of the study dragging his bad leg, hauls a handgun out of his pants and Steve doesn’t even have time to take aim.

Carl’s chest explodes in two plumes of red and he crumples to the floor. Steve’s momentary confusion clears as he lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding and looks over to the hallway and sees his Danno in classic firing stance, his gun still smoking.

They don’t say more than five words to each other as Danny locates his cell phone and calls the cavalry, and Steve already feels the ache of loss settling into his bones as he moves around the house, surreptitiously glancing at his partner.

Steve’s house is soon crawling with cops. Jenna asks if Steve is okay about a hundred times before Kono asks her to help collect evidence. For her part, Kono simply asks once, before nodding and moving to Danny.

Danny’s holed up in the kitchen washing his hands. Again. Steve saw the cuts on his wrists from the cuffs and it makes a new flush of anger creep through his exhausted body. Danny hasn’t spoken a word to him since he killed Carl.

Chin just watches Steve, silent and thoughtful. Steve had managed to come up with a story to explain four dead men in his house on a Friday night. Car Rin wanted revenge, planned on beating him and Danny and then killing them. Steve’s tactical response was proportional and justified and he doesn’t regret a thing. The uniforms take down the information, nod, clap Steve on the shoulder and say they’re glad he and Danny are okay and move on.

Chin just keeps studying him. Steve’s starting to get an itch under his skin from the older man’s quiet gaze.

Steve sees Danny appear from the kitchen. His shirt is buttoned, but un-tucked, and his hair is haphazardly smoothed back. He looks like he’s aged ten years and Steve hurts for him all over again.

“Okay, if you have everything from me, I’m just gonna…” and Danny hooks his thumb over his shoulder toward the door.

Steve catches his eye and for a terrifying second, the world around them – cops, morgue guys, crime scene techs pulling shrapnel out of Steve’s dry wall – stops, and it’s just him and Danny. Danny breaks the spell by rubbing the back of his neck, breaking the gaze and heading out the door.

The front door closes and Steve flinches from the finality in the sound.

“You okay, brah?” Chin asks quietly.

Steve sighs. “Yeah.”

“Rin just came here to rough you two up, that’s all?”

“For me putting him in prison during that op in Asia,” Steve answers. He knows Chin isn’t buying this story, but the truth is not an option, for his and Danny’s sanity.

Chin crosses his arms over his chest. There is nothing accusing in his stance or demeanor, but the doubt in his voice is evident. “Stun grenade to knock you two out, then beat you up and kill you. That’s it.”

“That’s it,” Steve says and walks quietly out of his house and down to the beach to wait for everyone to leave. Waves are still crashing on the shore loud and rough even though the storm has passed. Yet somehow, the cadence of the waves is peaceful, predictable. He stares out at the ocean until his house is empty again.

He steps over the bloodstains, the bullet holes and the wood splinters – hardly noticing them – on his way to the spare bedroom. The true crime scene. Mechanically, Steve tears the bed apart, forgoing loosening screws in favor of an old hacksaw, cutting the metal frame into pieces. He drags it all out to the beach and builds himself a nice bonfire.

If only it were that easy to burn memories.

Steve drinks himself into a stupor that night and sleeps in his hammock because like the bonfire, his house smells of the burnt embers of his and Danny’s relationship that he just can’t fucking face right now.

 *******

The next few days pass in a blur because Steve has been drinking himself to sleep every night. The awful awkwardness Steve was afraid of settles in and what little he does see of his partner is strained. Danny doesn’t seem to want to be in the same room with Steve except for work-related discussions, and Steve figures he deserves it.

He tries to shove everything aside, focus on the tasks at hand, and for the most part, it works. Steve’s been well trained. Danny hasn’t. Steve can see the ghosts of that night in Danny’s posture, in his eyes.

Danny looks haggard and Steve knows he’s not much better off – if the way Jenna keeps wrinkling her nose at him and saying he needs to shave because the poor girl doesn’t have much of a filter on her mouth. Even Kono fusses over him in her own way, asking him to go out for lunch, inviting him up to North Shore when their paperwork is finished, trying to for jokes that fall pitifully flat to lighten the mood in the office.

Steve wishes it was Danny telling him he looks like shit, worrying about whether he ate, bitching at him about paperwork.

Chin hasn’t asked any more questions, thank God for small blessings, but Steve knows he isn’t buying that a beat-down was Carl Rin’s only reason for attacking them. Chin just keeps noticing the way Steve and Danny can’t get within five feet of each other, won’t say more than a sentence or two between them and it’s always work related and _shit_ , Steve just lowers his head and plows on through the day, ignoring his team member’s worried looks.

It’s at home when Steve’s own ghosts start gnawing at his battered soul, the what-ifs he’s always been plagued with now ten times worse. Maybe there was something else he could have done earlier that night. Tricked Carl into letting him into the room, maybe offer himself up for Carl’s pleasure and he could have gotten the knife and Danny wouldn’t have had to…

Steve takes a long drag on his Longboard, draining it, sets it next to its line of brothers on his counter.  Captain Howell called again today, offering that “little job” that he could use Steve for. Nothing permanent but it’d get Steve off the island for a couple weeks at least.

Maybe Danny could use the break, get some distance between them that he seems to want. Steve doesn’t blame him.  

Decision made, he picks up his phone and dials the governor, telling her about this side-job for the Navy, mentions his team needs some time off.

“Are you alright, Commander?” Governor Jameson’s voice melts from the professional timber to the gentler, more maternal sound that, in all honestly, screws with Steve’s head a little.

“Fine, ma’am.”

“I read the reports of the home invasion, Steve. You and Danny, are you really okay?”

Steve grinds his teeth, contemplating adding yet another beer to his quartet smearing condensation on his counter. She’s fishing for more information than the cut and dried reports he and Danny gave to HPD. First Chin’s thoughtful glances, now his boss is throwing sympathy at him and she doesn’t understand that Steve just doesn’t fucking deserve it.

He takes a deep breath. “Danny – Danny’s tough, ma’am. He’s healing from the assault,” his stomach threatens to rebel on him right then, “with the concussion grenades. And I’m fine. I just… I think we could use a break.”

A pause. “Have you told your team about this little hiatus?”

“No, ma’am. Not…not yet. I’ll let Chin know before I catch the helo out of Pearl. He can brief the team. I don’t expect to be gone long,” Steve says.

“Yes, you’ve told me that, Steve. What I’m wondering is what your partner will think of all this.”

Steve stays mulishly silent, rolling the bottle on the counter around in its condensation ring.

“He’s your partner, Steven. Your best friend, if I’m not mistaken. You’re actually going to leave and not talk to your partner?”

Steve leans heavily on the counter, rubbing a hand down his overly-stubble face. “I doubt he’ll miss me.” And really, did he say that out loud?

There’s silence, long enough that Steve almost wonders if they’ve disconnected. Then, a sigh. “I’ve never known a Navy man who didn’t face his problems head on. Especially a SEAL.”

Steve feels his gut turn over and suddenly he’s nauseous and so fucking tired at the same time. “Sometimes all the training in the world doesn’t prepare you for everything, Governor.”

 ___________________________________________________________________________________________________

 _“Forgiveness doesn’t change the past, but it does enlarge the future.”_

 _~ Paul Boese_

 ___________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Danny’s had time to think. And he thinks that walking on eggshells is better left to those who are more squeamish about voicing their opinions. If Danny Williams has a problem with you, he lets you know, in no uncertain terms.

The thing is, Danny’s not sure how to fix this thing with him and Steve. He just knows he has to or be forced to transfer out of the only job that’s felt right since leaving New Jersey. The only place he feels like he belongs.

In the days after the…incident… Danny raged. He’s sore _everywhere_ , but that didn’t stop him from putting his fist through the shitty particle board closet door in his apartment. And the bruised, bloodied knuckles felt oddly soothing to the frayed, seeping wounds in his soul.

Because Danny’s pretty fucking sure he’s falling in love with Steve. And then Carl Rin came in and fucked their fragile start literally all to Hell.

Part of a stupid nursery rhyme, one Danny’s heard Grace sing a thousand times, keeps playing like a ridiculous loop in his head: _Ashes, ashes, we all fall down_. Like his and Steve’s relationship – promising, something that will finally make them both happy and then it suddenly crumbles to the floor in ruin.

Okay, he knows he was partly responsible for the awkwardness that has suffocated the pair of them at the office lately. Danny doesn’t know how to start the conversation about that night, but it sure as hell seems like Steve is trying to forget about it completely.

He’s going right back behind those military android walls and frankly, that pisses Danny off. And pissed off Danny is not a productive Danny, so he’s backed off. Tried to give him his space.

He knows Steve had no choice, really, he does. In the wee hours of the night, Danny’s brain has replayed every minute of that time with Carl Rin and for the life of him, he can’t imagine a different outcome. And what’s more, he can’t help but hurt for Steve; how his partner begged for understanding in a way he’d never believed Steve ‘Badass’ McGarrett could sound.

He doesn’t ever want to hear that desolation in Steve’s voice again.

Danny thinks about Grace in those sleepless nights too. How Chin or Kono would have had to break the news that she’d never see her Danno again and fuck, there’s the rub.

Despite everything, _everything_ Steve made sure Danny would see his daughter again.

It’s the following Saturday and Danny’s spent the morning rattling around his apartment, letting his thoughts eat him alive, and because his life is just that fucking perfect these days, it’s raining again.

It’s been raining all night, adding to Danny’s sleeplessness and bringing back a whole host of memories from that night a week ago. Danny stares out his window, watching as the rain slows to a drizzle, dripping from the palm leaves and finds himself wondering for the thousandth time what Steve is doing.

Before he knows it, Danny’s in the car, speeding toward Steve’s house because there are things he needs to tell the big goofball. Things he can’t say over the phone. It’s time for them both to man-up and face what happened if they’re ever to have a chance for the future.

Now at midday, everything has that fresh-washed look after the rain, the sun coming out from behind the clouds and Danny can smell the hyacinth blooming. Perhaps it’s a good omen.

At Steve’s front door, Danny has an attack of nerves and for the first time since they met, he can’t just waltz into Steve’s sanctum. After a moment of scratching the back of his neck, squinting off into the distance and berating himself, Danny knocks.

He hears some shuffling around, a mumbled “Hang on!” and then there’s Steve, right in front of him, in his stupid cargos and stupid form-fitting tee-shirt.

Danny shoves his hands in his pockets and nods. “Hey.”

Steve just stares like he’s just woken up from some kind of dream, before shaking his head a little. “Hey.”

There’s a moment or two where they just look at each other, Danny seeing the wear and tear of the last few days on Steve’s face, wondering what self-flagellation Steve has engaged in. Knows he isn’t the only one who hasn’t slept through the night since _that_ night.  

Steve starts to back into the house and Danny follows and for those few moments, all of Steve McGarrett’s emotions flicker across that handsome face. Then, Danny can literally see the shutters close and all that’s left is the McGarrett he remembers on that first day they met: cool, calculating, withdrawn.

“You knocked,” Steve says.

Danny shrugs a shoulder, noting the distance between them, but not able to close it himself. “Yeah, well, sometimes I like to change things up. Keep you on your toes.”

Something softens in Steve’s eyes; he seems to want to move toward Danny but thinks better of it.

“You uh… want a beer?” Steve’s casting about for some thread of conversation and if beer will help, Danny’s willing to throw him that lifeline.

Danny nods and heads into the living room while Steve gets the Longboards. A chill runs down his spine as he sees the ragged shrapnel holes in the drywall, the wood covering the broken windows, and why is there a huge char-mark outside on Steve’s beach?

He’s still staring at what looks like the remains of a large fire on the beach when Steve approaches and hands Danny the beer at arm’s length. He takes several swallows. “Kamekona gonna help you with the repairs again?”

Steve shrugs. “Maybe. I think it’s gonna have to wait.”

And it’s then that Danny sees the green duffel near the end of the couch with the Navy logo on it and his heart stutters in his chest. _Ashes, ashes, we all fall down…_

“What’s that, Steve?”

Steve shifts his weight; a spot on the floor is suddenly fascinating.

Danny slams the beer bottle on the coffee table and doesn’t even think about the liquid spewing out of the neck.

“So that’s it, huh? You were just gonna fucking _leave_ and not talk about it?” Danny steps into Steve’s space and is shocked when his partner stumbles back as though Danny were about to stab him.

“It’s nothing major, Danny. Just a little job for an old Navy buddy.” Steve tries to sound unaffected but he’s still not looking Danny in the eye. “I figured we could use a break.”

“A break? I – you know what, that’s amazing. Really fucking amazing. I never thought I’d see the day that you’d run, McGarrett. _Jesus_.”

Now Steve comes back to life, eyes flaring, hands balling into fists. “What the fuck, Danny? What do you want from me?”

“I want you to stop acting like nothing happened! Stop being the perfect little soldier boy, like you didn’t fuck the hell out of me in that room at gun point. Like we didn’t…” Danny fades off because Steve looks stricken now.

He watches his partner swallow and look away. “ _God_ , _Danny_ ,” Steve chokes out.

“I know, okay? I know,” Danny says, running a hand through his hair. “I just, I can’t deal with this without talking to you and I can’t do that if you leave.”

 _If you leave me_ , seems to hang between them, and damned if Danny can help it.

He hates what they were forced to do, hates that their first time was viciously stolen from them, but he’s not about to let Steve beat himself to death because of it. Or run away and try to get himself killed without Danny there to watch his back. The man has enough demons pressing on his soul.

Steve seems to sag. “I’m sorry, man. I just… I’m so fucking sorry. I just thought it would be easier for you if I disappeared.” He looks up, eyes bright with frustration and heartache. “I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to transfer back to HPD.”

Okay, that stings, Danny won’t deny it. He grimaces. “Wha? No! If you think I’m leaving you alone to try to blow up the island, one grenade at a time, you really are a bigger goof than I thought.”

A fraction of a smile colors Steve’s expression and Danny finds himself mirroring it.

“Danny, c’mon. I’m trying to say I don’t blame you for hating me for – for what happened.” Steve finishes his confession by staring at his feet and looks for all the world like a huge, little boy whose been left behind one too many times.

Danny wants to laugh, scream, cry at the absurdity in Steve’s words. Instead, he rubs his hands over his face, takes another step forward and gestures toward Steve’s chest.

“Hate you? God, Steven…I am so _gone_ for you it’s fucking hysterical, don’t you know that by now?”

Steve jerks his head up, confusion knitting his brows and Danny just has to smile.

“What happened that night, yeah, I’d like to scrub the images out of my mind with bleach, but I don’t blame you. I _don’t_ ,” Danny says, gently.

Steve moves to loom over him, searching his face for something, Danny isn’t sure what exactly. It’s like Danny is a life preserver and Steve’s floundering for purchase in a riptide.

Steve reaches out, brushes a tentative hand down Danny’s shoulder and arm. “I wanted us to… I wanted it to be –” Steve starts.

“I know,” Danny finishes. “We will, babe. We’ll get there. But you got to stick around, though.”

“I think I can call Captain Howell, tell him something’s come up,” Steve says, running the soft cotton Danny’s tee-shirt sleeve through is fingers.

Danny grins, feeling the weight shift off his heart and a bone-deep warmth setting in. This is okay, they could do this. They could start to work at picking up the pieces of this relationship and start fitting them back where they should be.

So Danny reaches up, tugs Steve’s neck down to his shoulder and wraps his other arm solidly around his waist, pulling him into a hug. Steve breathes out a weary sigh, clinging to Danny like a man who’s spent his life bereft of human contact and is trying desperately to remedy that.

Danny smiles into Steve’s neck, squeezing just a little bit hard, just to prove to Steve that he’s there, right _there_ , and he’s not going to disappear.  

They’ll trip and stumble over how to make this work, bicker over the details and probably wish they’d done things differently at times, but in the end, Danny knows that as long as Steve is by his side, he’ll never fall.

 

 **END**

 


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